A modest proposal
by Cissmoll
Summary: A ficlet where the shy stage technician Hope gets asked by Lightning, the most gorgeous model he's ever worked with, to pretend to be her husband.
"Explain it to me again - _why_ do we need to pretend to be married?"

Hope stared at the gorgeous, pink-haired model in front of him. Lightning Farron— _the_ Lightning Farron—awkwardly crossed her arms.

"It's that buffoon of a male model I'm working with today. You know. _Tim._ " She nodded at the stage right behind them, where a tall, dark-haired man lay sprawled over the set's luxurious ottoman couch. He was good-looking, as all the male models were, and judging by his confident posture he was well aware of it. The model kept a wary eye on Lightning's back, observing her every move. Hope scowled. Tim didn't have the right to look at her like that. No one had. She was _Lightning Farron._ Didn't he get that?

Lightning shuddered. "I've told him to leave me alone on about a dozen different occasions, but he just won't take a hint. He was starting to get . . . _handsy,_ and it was either this or a punch to the face." She clenched her fists. "Believe me, if my livelihood hadn't been relying on me cooperating with this moron, he would have had a broken nose right now."

Hope scratched the back of his head. "Okay, sure, but . . . why me? I'm just . . . you know." He was just a stage technician, and she was _Lightning Farron._ She was lightyears out of his league, and he had no idea why she thought anyone would believe for even a second that they were married.

"You're not 'just' anything. You're Hope." She gave him a shy smile, causing his heart to skip a beat or two. "Out of all the people on this set, you're the only one I'd consider a friend."

Hope felt his ears flush red. How was he supposed to reply to something like that? Yes, there had been moments—very, _very_ nice moments—where she'd decided to join him for a chat after her shoots. He'd treasured those moments more than he'd ever admit, but he'd never thought they meant anything to her. He slowly returned her smile. _A friend._ Yeah, he could definitely live with that. Even if that meant having to pretend being her husband.

Lightning's eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, no. He's coming. Just think of me as your wife, okay?"

For a moment, he allowed himself to do just that, and his emotions almost knocked him over with their intensity. Before he could say anything, she'd grabbed his hand and turned toward the approaching model.

"Lightning, darling, what are you doing back here?" Tim said, wearing a smug grin on his face.

Hope felt Lightning's hand twitch in his at the pet name, and he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose. _What a douche._

"I told you I was going over here to speak with my husband." Her voice was crisp, and her eyes were shooting daggers. "This is him."

"Hope Estheim, stage technician," Hope said, reaching out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Tim didn't even bother to look at him. "Darling, please. We both know you'd never be with someone like _him._ "

Lightning clenched her jaw. "I don't appreciate you insulting my husband. I'd be very careful about my next words if I were you."

"Or what?" Tim finally looked at Hope, eying him from head to toe. "He'll hurt me? Come one. He's a stage technician. He looks like he could go one-on-one with a fly and _lose._ " He snorted a little at his own joke. "Stop this farce, darling. Leave this loser and have a drink with me. He doesn't deserve you."

Lightning took a step forward, nearly vibrating with anger. "That's it, I'm—"

On instinct, Hope wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his body. Before he could think about what he'd done, he turned to the model.

"I don't think you understand the situation here," he slowly said. "I won't hurt you, no. I'm just an ordinary stage technician. My wife, though? She's an ex-soldier. She could destroy you without even breaking a sweat. If you'd bothered to look at her—the _real_ her, not just the shallow image of her you're trying to woo—you'd have known how close you just were to being knocked out." He raised his eyebrows. "You're welcome, by the way."

Tim stared at him speechlessly, and so did Lightning. Hope took a deep breath before continuing.

"You're right about one thing, though—I don't deserve her. But that doesn't matter. You know why? Because she chose me." He smiled down at her shocked, blushing face. "I don't think there's anyone on this planet who truly 'deserves' her. She's the most spectacular woman in the world. If she wants to be with me, I'm more than happy to oblige."

"Hope." Her voice was soft, her eyes questioning. "Did you . . . did you mean all that?"

"Yes."

Her gaze fell to his lips, and back to his eyes, and then she reached up and kissed him. Her lips were softer than he could have ever imagined. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She ran her fingers through his hair, gasping softly into his mouth. His brain almost malfunctioned right on the spot. He could barely believe this was happening, that he was kissing _her—_ Lightning Farron, the most spectacular woman in the world.

There had only been a single lie in his statement, and that had been the part about her being his wife. The rest of it had come straight from his heart.

When they finally came up for air, Tim was long gone. They stared at each other, both slightly out of breath.

"Would you . . . would you maybe like to have dinner with me some time?" Hope asked.

Lightning smiled. "I'd like that."


End file.
